


Always a hunter

by TheCursedChild



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2953262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCursedChild/pseuds/TheCursedChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary watches Dean grow up, and starts to suspect that Hunter-genes are hereditary after all. Even though she has escaped the life, she doubts her first-born will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always a hunter

**Author's Note:**

> I've been obsessed with Supernatural for years, and never actually wrote anything for the fandom....though not for a lack of ideas.

Dean is a fussy baby. Mary doesn’t mind that at all, seeing as the boy only really cries when he wants his parents to hold him. The new mom is still waiting for her past to catch up on her, and is so scared she can’t leave Dean out of her sight for weeks. Mary can never shake the feeling that she is going to lose her family like she lost her parents. 

John seems to think that their behavior, their clinginess, is endearing, and doesn’t mention they have a nursery where Dean can sleep. Instead, he moves the crib to their bedroom without a complaint and convinces himself it is practical. This way they barely have to get up, and Dean is completely safe, though John doesn’t fear the same dangers Mary does, ignorant of the things that go bump in the night.

Dean is as close to perfect as toddlers can be. He doesn’t fight bed-time, listens to his parents and charms people left and right with his bright personality and his startling green eyes. Their baby boy isn’t shy at all, runs up to friends and family with endless stories that are barely understandable from the moment he can walk.

He basks in attention, and likes being the spotlight wherever he is, and at three, that is adorable. When she finds out she is pregnant for the second time, she is scared of Dean’s reaction. Another baby in the household means that her son will have to share with his new sibling, and her oldest doesn’t seem like the type to do so gladly.

Even though she has barely even started her first trimester, she sits down with John and discusses babynames. They still have boy’s names left from when they were brainstorming for their first son. Dean is lying on her lap, dead to the world, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. He still has a red cape clumsily knotted at his throat, serving as blanket. His dark blue pajamas are adorned with the superman logo, and Mary can’t wait to have another child running around like Dean did today. His childhood already the opposite of her hunter-upbringing.

Like they named Dean after his grandmother, she wants to do the same with the baby. Nevertheless, she and John throw around other names over Dean’s sleeping form. Mary vetoes any name that is not common, unwilling to stand out even in the tiniest ways. She stripped herself of the Campbell name the moment she got married, hasn’t spoken to her cousins in years, doesn’t even know if any of them are still alive. It is a sacrifice she had to make, and one that was a lot easier with both her parents already dead. She was always the best at hunting, but she never fit in with her extended family and therefore never got close enough to mourn them more than a common stranger.

“I like Sammy,” Dean mumbles from her lap. Even if she and John hadn’t mostly agreed on the name already, and didn't know if the baby was a boy or girl, it would always be Sammy. From that day onward, Dean refuses to call his hopefully male sibling anything else, so his parents resign themselves to either Sam or Samantha.

Her second attempt at pregnancy is frighteningly easy. Even with a four-year old running around, she isn’t as exhausted as she was with Dean, her ankles and back ache far less and the morning sickness passes in a week, though John insists a week later that she had the stomach flu and passed it to him. Her lovely husband is a nightmare when he is sick, and suddenly she seems to be taking care of three babies all at once. She quietly wonders if anything supernatural is easing the strain on her body.

Any jealousy on Dean’s part is non-existent. He takes to the job of big brother like he was born to it. He helps John with the nursery, fetches his mom salty crackers and other cravings if she asks nicely and spends a week sorting out which of his toys can be Sammy’s when he’s born.

Her life has turned out exactly like she wanted it to when she ran from her past. Her and John are doing well, even with the stress of the garage and two kids on the way. They might not be perfect, but they are close enough and they love each other and that is all Mary needs.

She should have known the other shoe was going to drop. Frankly, she did know, was waiting anxiously for it to happen even, but she had been expecting something very different; Something at the garage, a problem in her marriage, John’s mild PTSD causing an episode, trouble with Sam or even demons and werewolves and shape shifters turning up on her un-salted doorstep.

The last thing on her mind had been Dean.

It’s not even anything big at first, something dismissible even. One of Dean’s friends has invited all of his friends to his Epic Birthday Party, and their moms and occasional dads are enjoying the spring sun a few feet away with tea and biscuits.

Mary tries very hard to like these gatherings where she can play normal mom, but she’s always fighting herself. She is too observant, looks for gossip and blackmail and weaknesses even though she no longer has to. Whatever the women are discussing, Mary can’t help but look for lies.

She finds them by the bucket. Money problems, health problems, marriage problems, kids getting bullied, spousal abuse in one case. They are as clear to her as March’s blue sky, but also un-interesting. Of course she helps and supports and solves, because she likes helping people, even if it is not in the same way other Campbells do.

What really makes her listen is the recounting of a tale that Dean told her just last week. Only in his version, they had been watching Scooby-Doo instead of Ducktales on the television.

It alerts her to the fact that Dean can tell her a lie without getting caught. After that, she is disillusioned. In every single story Dean tells, there is one insignificant detail that isn’t right. He said he had syrup on his pancakes instead of berries, had clementines instead of oranges as a snack, played with the firetruck instead of his G.I. Joe. He doesn’t bother changing bigger things, never does it to get out of trouble or better himself in her eyes. It’s like he’s practicing, and that frightens her.

When they are at the park, Dean can befriend every child he wants. It doesn’t matter whether they are shy or bigger or stronger or dangerous, he walks up and has the kid sharing toys within five minutes. Most of the time, Mary doubts he even likes the toys he's getting to play with. He is patient and non-threatening and it freaks her out, because Dean is only doing it to prove to himself that he can.

The thing that makes her feel like throwing up, though, is the way he approaches women. Any female fourteen and older is within his range, and he wraps them around his finger with flawless ease. His bright green eyes, his confidence and a simple smile charms each and every one of them. Dean looks at them like they are targets, never even considers them for anything more than a quick talk.

She sees the similarities between her son and her Hunter cousins. The way Dean too, looks for lies in every conversation while he plants them flawlessly. The way he talks and moves, the way he sees everything and looks at the sky for angels, like her, for proof that they’re there. Without meaning to, she has been allowing Dean to parrot the behaviour she is trying her hardest to suppress.

Dean doesn't get attached outside of his family. There's his parents and Sammy, and everyone else isn't worth much of his time, if any at all. His friends are kept just out of arms reach, hers and John's are strangers where they should be surrogate uncles and aunts. It is not healthy, it is the behaviour of a _hunter_ , of a _Campbell._

When Mary thinks of how this will evolve into his adult life, she starts fearing that the only long-lasting relationship he will ever have is with Sammy. Or, if he finds one, that angel Dean so desperately wants to exist, almost as desperately as she does. "Angels are watching over him," is the only mantra that helps. Well, Angels and herself.

Dean, at age four, already plays the game better than she ever did. One suspicious obituary, and Dean will find the life and dive into it like every Campbell before him. Saving lives is in his blood, she just hopes hunting things isn’t. Prays to angels who might exist that Dean becomes a cop or a fireman or anything that isn't a _hunter_.

She knows now that Dean is a danger to himself; selfless and reckless and attention-starved in spite of every single second of their free time at his side. Fears that whatever Dean is heading for, Sammy will be right beside him, because Dean's co-dependency is a two way street. Sammy won't stand a chance against his brother's endless good intentions, and follow Dean to the end of the world to safe it, all the way to Hell and Heaven and anything else in between and even _further._

Sammy, who could still be either boy or girl. Sammy, who, Dean decides, is going to be perfect in every way. Sammy, who Dean will keep safe for as long as he possibly can. Sammy, who thinks that two A.M is the perfect time to tell her that he is going to be born soon.

Her water breaking is just as unpleasant as it was the first time, so she cleans up first and then wakes John. Her husband breaks out into a giant smile of exitement. "wake up Dean," she tells him while she puts on something comfortable, throwing him a pair of jeans and shirt. Mary grins as he hops into his clothes and down the hall.

John stumbles into Dean’s bedroom, a grin still on his face and taps his son’s nose with a finger. Like it has without fail, Dean wakes up and jumps out of bed wide-eyed. “Sammy?” he asks, vaguely aware with what is going to happen in the next few hours.

“Yeah, son, we’re going to the hospital right away.” John and Mary had considered leaving him with the neighbors at first, but Dean had protested loudly, which he rarely ever did.

His son has on a shirt and slacks before John even remembers to turn on the light. Dean darts to his closet and grabs an overnight bag before running all the way to the front door where Mary is waiting patiently, leaving John slack-jawed before an annoyed “Dad!” reaches his ears.

He can’t wait to hear what Sammy sounds like when he or she says that. Their bag is by the door, and John swings it over his shoulder before reaching for his wife’s waist. Both bags go into the trunk.

The impala roars to life and John keeps shooting looks at Mary. She is in pain, but despite her tense posture, she isn’t making a sound or even flinching. Once again, he is amazed by his wife’s tolerance for pain, ignorant that she did not come by it naturally, but by sweat and blood and tears. That his sons and he will develop a tolerance even higher, just to survive.

Mary has already asked John to stay with Dean during the delivery, and he agreed even though Mary didn’t really give him choice. Sitting there in the waiting room with his son, who might be the most exited to finally meet the new addition to their household, John reminds himself that he is one lucky bastard.

They’re just outside the door, and with the exception of the doctor’s calm voice, they don’t hear a sound, not until Sammy’s cries bring chaos to the silence. “She’s asked for you,” the nurse says with a smile, and that alone is reassuring. It means that they haven’t found that there’s anything wrong with Sam.

Dean speed-walks to his mom, green eyes locked on the bundle of blankets in her arms. Sammy is still crying, his lungs healthy. “Hop up,” Mary smiles, patting the free patch of hospital bed. The big brother does as he is told and stares at Sam’s blotchy face with awe, not bothered by the noise at all. “Hi Sammy, I’m Dean,” he whispers, his small finger trailing down Sammy’s even tinier nose. Big curious eyes snap open. “I’m your big brother, and I’m gonna protect you.”

John grins at the scene and kisses Mary on the forehead, tasting salty skin. “I’m proud of you,” he says, and find a tired smile in return. John turns to his oldest son, of which he now has two. “And I’m proud of you, too, Kiddo,” he praises.

And he doesn’t say it again for two decades. He never forgives Dean for leaving Sam alone with a Shtigra on the loose, never quite trusts him with Sam’s safety again, even though he doesn't have a choice. It isn’t until Dean is dying on a hospital bed and John has already sold his soul that he can see what has been in front of him all that time. In twenty-four years, Dean has failed once, merely once, at his job as big brother, and Mary’s job as a mom, and John’s own as a father. Compared to what John has done to both of them and Mary, he can’t really understand why Dean has ever trusted or respected or followed him. Once he is long dead, he’ll find out that Dean trusted John with the protection his _own_ life out of necessity and an appreciation for John's sheer _skill_ as a hunter, not a father. Dean has never entrusted him with Sammy’s, _never._

When Dean goes to school, he is asked to introduce himself to the class on his first day. He says; “I’m Dean Winchester, Sammy’s big brother,” because he can’t say one without the other.

What he doesn't say, because he doesn't know the word for it yet, is; "I'm a hunter." 

Decades into the future, angels and demons will tell him that it has always been in his blood. Dean will agree that being a hunter is the one destiny he can't fight. 


End file.
